


the last one to forget this place

by alison



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Band Break Up, Cigarettes, M/M, pg13 kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 17:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2741264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alison/pseuds/alison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Okay,” Louis says when they finish their first round and crack open a second. “Here's the deal. You can say anything you want.” He gestures with his arms, swinging them wide in the air, an unlit cigarette held between two fingers. “Anything at all. And I won't judge you or take the piss or anything, not tonight and not ever. You have immunity for anything you say while we're up here.”</em>
</p><p>after the last show of the last tour, louis leads niall to a hotel rooftop and tells him to say the things he's been refusing to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the last one to forget this place

**Author's Note:**

> this was really good in my head, i swear.
> 
> sorry, harry, i don't actually think you're an asshole. :/

Niall has had plenty of time to prepare for this. He's known it's been coming for months, been constantly reminded of the impending date, and yet he still finds it hard to breathe when he wakes up in a hotel bed on a sunny Saturday morning.

It's the last show of the last tour. It's the end of One Direction.

Niall isn't fucking prepared.

-

“You're gonna go solo,” Harry says in the green room, nudging his elbow against Niall's. “You're gonna be a star, mate, don't look so glum.”

Niall doesn't look up from where he's mindlessly plucking the strings of his guitar. Harry does this thing sometimes, assumes that people want the same things as him or have the same emotions. He doesn't do it on purpose, doesn't mean to be hurtful, but it pangs deep in Niall's chest now.

The band is something Niall has loved wholeheartedly from the moment they were formed to now, this moment, this night. He's loved it through everything, even when it was hard and scary and stressful. He's loved it and Harry hasn't loved it the same way Niall has, not right up to the end, and it hurts to hear how casual he is about this. It feels disrespectful and it makes the lump in Niall's throat feel bigger, so he stays silent, ignoring the comment altogether.

“Niall?” Harry asks, noticing Niall's lack of response. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Harry,” Zayn says, walking up to the couch where they're sat. “Go check in with Caroline, she's been asking for you.”

As Harry walks away, Zayn sits in his spot and leans back silently. Caroline hasn't been asking for Harry, Niall knows that. Zayn's just better at picking up signals than Harry is.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, fingers sliding across the fret of his guitar, picking out random notes that don't turn into a melody.

He doesn't look up and Zayn doesn't reply; he just presses a hand to Niall's back and rubs circles across it before letting it fall away.

-

Niall has to stop singing twice during the show, has to turn away from the audience and take a steadying breath before he can jump into the song again. Only twice does he have to stop, even though throughout the entire show his chest feels tight and his shoulders feel heavy.

He doesn't say a final _thank you_ after the last song. He looks out over the crowd and shakes his head to himself, offering a weak wave before he turns and that's that. The stage lights aren't blinding him anymore and Niall immediately wonders if he'll ever forget what it feels like to be bathed in them.

Everyone is hugging backstage. Lots of people are crying, there's family everywhere, and Niall just wants to get away from it. He'd told his own family not to come. He knew he'd be feeling like this.

Niall receives a dozen hugs as he fights his way through the mass of bodies, most of the faces familiar, trying to escape. He nearly rips his arm away when someone's fingers wrap around his bicep, but when he looks up it's Louis. He doesn't say anything, just nudges his head toward the exit and pulls Niall away from the crowd.

Outside, the temperature is mild and Niall takes what feels like his first proper breath in hours. _He should be with his band right now_ , he thinks before realizing that he doesn't have a band anymore. He's no longer _Niall Horan of One Direction_ ; he's _Niall Horan, former boybander_. Or maybe even just _Niall Horan_ ; he doesn't remember what it feels like to just be a person and not a piece of a five-piece puzzle.

They drive in silence back to the hotel and Niall doesn't question it when Louis takes his hand, leading him to the lifts. He doesn't pay any attention to what button Louis pushes because their hands are still clasped together and the warmth between them is spreading.

When the doors open, Niall glances up and sees that they're on the top floor. Before he can ask- not that he really cares to- Louis tugs him by the hand, leading them out of the lift and down the hall. When they go through a door, they walk out into open air, stepping onto the roof.

“Bribed a kid,” Louis says simply, pulling Niall ahead.

There's a cluster of chairs off to the side and, based on the small rickety table with a half-full ashtray sitting on it, Niall is guessing this is where employees take their smoke breaks. What's surprising is the case of beer sitting on one of the chairs.

He shouldn't be surprised, though. Louis has pulled off far more spectacular things.

“Why are we here?” Niall asks, his voice rough from singing past that lump in his throat all night.

“You do this thing,” Louis says casually, dropping down onto one of the chairs. The cushions are worn and sun-faded but it looks like a throne when Louis sits in it. “You feel things and you never tell anyone. It's not healthy, mate.”

Niall stands a few paces from Louis, not sure what he's getting at. He wishes he'd brought a hoodie.

Louis kicks his foot out, tapping it against the leg of the chair adjacent to his. “You're gonna sit here with me and have a beer and you're gonna get it all out, all the shit that's been building up.”

He's right, of course. Louis does tend to be right about things like this, more perceptive than people give him credit for.

“What if I don't?” Niall asks boldly. It's not in his comfort zone to say no to Louis.

“I'll hold you down until you do,” Louis replies, just as casually, crossing his legs at the ankle where they're stretched out in front of him. It's clear he doesn't expect it to come to that.

Niall sits down anyway, too tired and numb from the evening to put up a fight. He accepts a can of beer from Louis and cracks it open, staring out as he drinks. The beer is warm.

As they drink together silently, Niall fights not to think of the fact that this might be a goodbye. He fights not to think that he might not have any more nights like this, drinking beer with Louis and sitting in comfortable silence.

He fights not to think of the loss he's already mourning.

-

“Okay,” Louis says when they finish their first round and crack open a second. “Here's the deal. You can say anything you want.” He gestures with his arms, swinging them wide in the air, an unlit cigarette held between two fingers. “Anything at all. And I won't judge you or take the piss or anything, not tonight and not ever. You have immunity for anything you say while we're up here.”

Niall lifts a disbelieving eyebrow, glancing at Louis as the lad lights his cigarette. “You expect me to believe that?”

Louis takes a drag from the cigarette, then drops his arms onto the armrests as he expels the smoke from his lungs. “I do,” he says sincerely, nodding, then holds out his half-empty pack of cigarettes. “Want one?”

“Nah,” Niall says, scuffing his foot against the paved roof. “Not smoking anymore. Fucks up my lungs.” He'd initially stopped because it made performing harder, reducing his lung capacity. Now that bit doesn't matter so much, he supposes.

“Alright, well,” Louis says, shoving the pack into his pocket. “Let's do this. Immunity time. Tell me things.”

Niall tips back his beer, thinking. He's been quiet for a while now, keeping his thoughts to himself because he's not sure anyone will care. Or maybe he's afraid that they will. Mostly he knows that no one will understand.

“I think it's shit that you guys just came to this consensus about disbanding without asking,” he says, staring at his hands wrapped around the beer can.

“Ni, we didn't-”

“No,” Niall interrupts, glancing up. “If you want me to do this, you can't disagree. You can't tell me I'm wrong or- or try to make it all better. You just have to let me say it.”

Louis looks a little shocked, staring back at Niall like he's grown an extra head. “Fuck. Fine, okay,” he finally agrees, then lifts his cigarette to his lips.

Niall nods and drops his head again, running a fingernail over the aluminum of the can. “Harry's kind of an asshole,” he mutters. “Like, I know he's been thinking about this longer, but he doesn't even think about how hard it is for me. He says it'll be okay, but he only knows it will be for him. He doesn't know that it'll be okay for me.” He squeezes his eyes shut, wincing. “And I love him so fucking much, you know? I love him and I hate being mad at him. I hate blaming him.”

Louis shifts in his chair across the way, but stays silent. Niall can feel his gaze on him, sharp and focused. He can always feel it when Louis' paying attention to him and it always makes his skin feel hot all over. Now, he can't look up to see it; he can't handle it in this moment.

“I'm not going solo,” he goes on, taking a drink from his beer, then leaning back in his chair. “Half the fun of all of this has been you guys. I mean, I love music and I love playing, but I only know how to do it this way. I don't know how to fill a whole stage and, honestly, I don't know if I'd ever want to figure it out.”

He closes his eyes, tipping his head back, and listens as Louis stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray between them.

“I hate breaks,” he says, letting his thoughts finally become words, letting them spill out. “Always have. I just go home and wander around my flat and stare at my phone, waiting for one of you to call. I hate not having things to do and that scares the fuck out of me, you know?” He sighs, blinking his eyes open and staring up at the sky. “I don't know what to _do_.”

When he feels fingers resting against his wrist, he tilts his head, looking over at Louis. The lad is staring at him, not smiling, not frowning. His fingers circle Niall's wrist and stay there, gently holding onto him. Niall feels his stomach flip, feels his heart race as they look at each other.

“Keep going,” Louis urges softly, sweeping his thumb across the inside of Niall's wrist.

Niall wonders if Louis can feel the beat of his pulse, the way it's speeding up. “I wanted to kiss you again,” he says because, if he's supposed to be saying the things he's been keeping inside, that one might be the most important.

Louis freezes, his fingers fall still around Niall's wrist, but he doesn't show a reaction. He just waits, unmoving.

“That night, most nights since,” Niall goes on, shrugging like it's not something that's been growing in his chest, like Louis hadn't planted a seed that night when he'd pressed his lips to Niall's. Like he hasn't remembered how sweet Louis' mouth tasted all these months, like he doesn't still dream about what could have happened if Louis hadn't left afterward.

“Fuck it,” he says, sitting up, then gestures at Louis' pocket, the other lad's hand falling away from his wrist as he does. “Give me one.”

Louis stares for another moment before shaking his head, mumbling, “Fuck,” and reaching into his pocket to pull out the cigarettes.

Louis has another, too, lighting it after Niall's lit his, and they smoke in silence for a bit, the siren of an ambulance whooping in the distance. Niall shivers as the night starts to lose some of its heat, rubs his hands over his arms. It's not unbearable though and he doesn't want to leave.

He really doesn't want to leave.

“Is it weird I like the taste the most?” Niall asks, flicking the cigarette between his knees and tasting the grit on his tongue.

“Very,” Louis says, sounding so much like Louis that Niall glances up, sees that it's still him. He hasn't been scared off.

“Well,” he says, quirking the corner of his mouth up. “I do anyway.”

Louis smiles then, but there's sadness in the corners of it. Niall drops his gaze to it, wondering it would taste like. He looks away quickly though, knows better than to get his hopes up.

“It's fucked up, me moping like this,” he mumbles. “I was lucky to get in the band and I was lucky it got as successful as it did. I've been so lucky.” He takes a short drag from his cigarette, can't handle breathing in too much, and he blows it out slowly, letting the taste slide over his tongue. “Can't be upset that the luck finally ran out, can I?”

Louis waits a beat, seems to be thinking before he laughs dryly, shaking his head. “I'm glad you're not looking for words of wisdom here, mate,” he says, then takes one last drag from his cigarette. After he's smashed it into the ashtray, he takes a drink from his beer and Niall watches, always finds the little mundane things fascinating with Louis. He has since the beginning, his attention always seeming to drag back to the older lad no matter how hard he tries to tear it away.

“You know you're brilliant, right?” Louis says, looking away. “I mean, wanting something and knowing you can do them are different things, but if you wanted to go solo, like. I'd go to your show, you know? 'Cos you're brilliant.”

Niall feels twitchy under the words. Louis almost never comes right out and gives plain compliments and it's jarring enough to make Niall's skin feel hot and itchy. “You're not supposed to disagree, remember?” He says, voice weak and palms sweaty. The cigarette in his fingers has burned down to nothing so he stubs it out just to give him something to do.

“You never said you weren't brilliant,” Louis points out, his brow lifted when Niall glances up at him.

Niall takes a breath, embarrassed by how shaky it is. “Didn't I?” He asks, feeling his heart thump heavily in his chest.

Louis' face falls slowly, just enough that it looks like he's been hurt. Niall immediately feels guilty. He's already called Harry an asshole and now he's hurting Louis. It's like he's going through the people he cares most about in this world one by one and spitting in their faces. Next he'll complain about how Zayn hasn't shown any interest in the band since their second album or what an idiot Liam can be sometimes.

“You all have your things,” Niall goes on, trying to ignore that feeling that's clawing its way up in Niall's chest, guilt and anger alternating so quickly that Niall can't tell the difference between the two anymore. “Harry's the heartthrob, you and Liam are the songwriters, Zayn has the ridiculous voice. You all have your things and I'm up there hiding behind my guitar because without it I have nothing to offer.”

He wipes at his face, smelling tobacco on his fingers, mad at himself for saying all of this stuff. He doesn't feel any better for having said it and now Louis' going to look at him like a sad puppy, offer his pity.

“Shit, I didn't mean to get so feckin whiny,” he says, dropping his hands and sighing. His beer is almost empty. He wants another one, but he doesn't know how much longer Louis will want to stay.

When Louis stands up, Niall looks up, not sure what to expect. “Come on,” he says, holding out his hand, his expression soft.

Niall doesn't want to leave, but if his hand will be in Louis', maybe leaving won't be so bad.

-

Just like they'd gotten to the roof, Niall lets Louis lead him silently back to the lifts, doesn't pay attention to the button he pushes. He holds onto Louis' hand and follows when the doors open, walks a step behind the lad until they get to a door. Louis takes out a key card then, opening it and pulling Niall inside.

It's clearly Louis' room, an open suitcase sitting on the floor with clothes scattered around it.

“I can't put the band back together for you,” Louis says, turning to Niall. “And I can't even make you understand how brilliant you really are.”

Niall shakes his head, looking past Louis' shoulder. “You're not supposed to, right? No fixing, those were the rules.”

Louis takes a step closer, right into Niall's space and it makes Niall's skin flush. He never did figure out how to handle having Louis' undivided attention.

“My game, my rules,” he says, reaching up to touch Niall's cheek. "Immunity only applies to taking the piss."

Niall blinks at the boy across from him, feels his skin tingle where Louis' fingertips rest. He thinks it must be obvious, thinks it must have been obvious from the start how enthralled he is with Louis. Louis must have felt it when they kissed. He must have known.

“You wanted to kiss me again,” Louis whispers, lifting his brow.

Niall feels numb as he nods, his lungs struggling in a way that Niall knows isn't from the cigarette he'd smoked. He takes a step back toward the wall behind him for something to lean on and Louis follows, dropping his hands to Niall's hips. His breath catches at the touch, then punches out of his chest when Louis drags one hand across his stomach and up his chest. It travels slowly and Niall can feel the trail of heat left in its wake until it slides over his shoulder, curling behind Niall's neck.

“You _are_ brilliant, you know,” Louis murmurs before leaning in, his lips pressing softly into Niall's.

Niall swallows back a whimper, his eyelids falling shut as they kiss. It's as good as the last one, slow and warm, mouths parting carefully.

He remembers the last time, how it had felt like Louis had fixed something in Niall that he'd thought had been broken. He'd never felt something like it, not with any of the many boys and girls he'd kissed before; he'd never wanted anyone the way he'd wanted Louis that night. And that want hasn't dissipated, still as strong as ever.

When Louis pulls away from it, Niall lets him go, knows better than to chase him. “Hope that wasn't a massive disappointment,” Louis says, his lips curling into a smile, pink from the kiss.

Niall laughs, surprising himself. It feels like he hasn't laughed in days. “Total let-down,” he replies, knowing how obvious it is that he's lying. There's no way Louis missed the way Niall melted into him when their lips touched. “Don't know why I've wanted that so bad.”

“Damn,” Louis says, keeping up the charade. “Well, if I can't give you quality, at least I can give you quantity, yeah?”

The rhythm of Niall's heartbeat falters as Louis moves in to kiss him again, moving both hands up to cradle Niall's neck, fingers slowly moving through the short hair at the back of it. A shudder runs through him as they kiss in the quiet of the room, pressing the taste of beer and cigarettes into each other's mouths.

He thinks, just for a moment, that maybe his luck hasn't quite run out yet.

“Hey,” Louis murmurs, their lips wet and touching. “I won't disagree with the part about Harry being an asshole, but you really will be okay.”

Niall squeezes his eyes even more tightly shut, shaking his head a fraction of an inch and feeling where his lips stick to Louis'. “You don't know that, Lou.”

Louis kisses him again, deeper, almost territorially, before he pulls off, breathing heavily against Niall's lips. “I do though,” he says confidently. “I know because I'll personally make sure of it.”

Niall is silent, but he looks at Louis, asking a question that he can't put words to. He asks it with his eyes, not knowing what it even is.

“Nialler,” Louis says sadly, tilting his head. “You're an idiot if you thought I was going anywhere.”

As Louis kisses him again, Niall knows it was the right answer, the thing he'd needed desperately to hear. He needs to know that, even if they're no longer bandmates, they're still _something_. He still hates that it's over; he's still bloody terrified of not knowing what's ahead. He still doesn't want to leave this life, this job, these boys.

But if his hand is in Louis', maybe leaving won't be so bad.


End file.
